Art

When heart touches by feeling
Then the doors open
And the insidious power get overflowing
Poetry, the art is born.

The dreary eyes have no sight to feel
How the leaves are dancing and swing
But heart sinks deep and weep and feel
Oh! art is obviously rising.

When heart touches by the art
Insidious glory extends to the face
Art your becomes yourself part
And life becomes deference.

When I am Dead, My Dearest

When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget. 


by Christina Georgina Rossetti
(1830-1894) 

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Compellation

I am on the earth
and proud to be.
And I have the unwalked path to walk
Where it leads to me?
Really, I do not know
But I must have to walk.

On the way
Dogs are barking
Either at Darkness of night or at me
And some humans are making confuse
And myself is no god
So I am really unknown
Which way to walk?
But I must have to walk.

Before to choose superior
Before to learn some well
Before to light in life
I reach my Bed anyway
And I feel
Rest is life
Life is God